


Phone Calls and a Finally

by turps



Category: NSYNC, Popslash
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-27
Updated: 2012-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-30 05:10:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/328095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turps/pseuds/turps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for trickyfish day</p>
            </blockquote>





	Phone Calls and a Finally

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Ephemera for beta reading.

As ideas went it wasn´t a great one. Hell, it wasn´t even a good one, but Lance was desperate, and desperate times called for desperate measures.

In theory there were solid foundations. Lance was Chris´ friend. He had his cell number, his email, his address; if it came to it he even had Chris´ My Space url, and the option of leaving public comments the fans would analyse for weeks.

Problem was, theory was just that, theory. Theoretically Lance could fly a spaceship to the moon, but that didn´t mean he could hop into a rocket and blast away. No, practical application was the key, and that meant no matter how many times Joey reassured him his idea was foolproof, Lance knew it could fail.

~*~*~*~

"Lance!" 

With an oompth, Lance was pulled in a patented Kirkpatrick hug, all full body contact, beaming smile and strong clinging arms.

"I haven´t seen you in forever." Chris squeezed extra hard, stubble rasping against Lance´s cheek, causing a rush of feeling from ears to toes.

Fighting to focus, Lance forced himself to move, turning his head so his mouth wasn´t pressed against the tempting curl of Chris´ ear. Not that he wanted to bite it, or slide his tongue across that row of shining silver hoops. That kind of behaviour led to front pages in the gossip rags, which would be inappropriate to the extreme, and Lance prided himself on always behaving appropriately. At least he tried to.

"Chris!"

A blur of air, and someone plastered themselves against Lance´s back. Normally he´d be concerned, but Justin was instantly recognisable, all muscled arms, hard stomach and dorky laugh. Plus, how could Lance ever fear someone that made Chris light up like that?

Caught in the flurry of excited words, back slaps and enthusiastic hugs, Lance held on, arms wrapped around Chris´ body, Justin´s chin digging into his neck. “Lance, hi.’ Justin waved a hand from behind Chris´ back, dorkish to the last.

“Hi.’ Arms trapped, no way could Lance wave in reply. Instead he wiggled his fingers, grinning against Chris´ neck as he both felt and heard Justin´s laughing reply.

“I thought you were too ‘A list´ for things like this.’ Chris looked at Justin over Lance´s shoulder.

“I figured I could slum it for a while, hang with the little people.’ Lance couldn´t see Justin´s expression, but he didn´t need eyes to see Justin´s grin, he could feel it, the happiness that surrounded them as Justin suddenly hugged even closer. “I´ve missed you guys.’

“Come on.’ Chris turned, his hair flicking against Lance´s face, as the hug stretched but never broke. All three of them were never more than arms lengths apart as they made for a quiet corner of the room, where Lance found himself squashed on a sofa, nodding along as the other two gossiped like the teenaged girls they really were. 

~*~*~*~

"So, how did it go?"

Lance settled into the corner of his couch, phone tucked against his ear. He winced at a loud echoing clatter, and patiently waited as Joey took care of yet another calamity at the house of Fatone.

"I´m back, sorry, go on."

Lance sighed. "There´s nothing to tell."

"I knew you wouldn´t talk to him. Chris has to realise how much he misses you. Everything rests on that."

Lance narrowed his eyes, glaring at an innocent pot plant that seemed to wilt under his gaze. "I _tried_ to talk to him, but Justin turned up."

"Ah." Joey didn´t say anymore, he didn´t have to.

"Your idea sucks." Scowling more, Lance let his head flop back with a satisfying thump. Not that he regretted last night, really. It had been good to catch up, almost like time had been reversed and they were young again. No, it had been a good night; just not what he´d planned was all. 

"Okay, so you had a set back. We can deal with that. When´s the next time you¹re seeing him?"

Lance briefly thought about asking when this whole thing had become a joint effort, but knew he wouldn´t like the answer. There were only so many times Joey could mention pathetic and pining before Lance would develop a complex. Bigger than the one he was carrying around now, even. 

He stretched for his Palm, tapping buttons and making things bleep. There was no need for Joey to know he knew the date off by heart. "There´s a tentative meeting in July. Some filming deal."

"Forget that." Lance could easily imagine Joey´s expression, the scrunch of his eyes and mouth. "I can´t put up with your whining for that long."

"I didn´t ask you to get involved." That had to be stated, some dignity regained, because Lance _hadn´t_ asked, whatever Joey might say.

"If you want to believe that." Joey trailed off and Lance knew his lips would be pursed in that serious thinking way. "You need to go to Chris´ house, take the offensive."

"And do what? Throw myself at his feet and declare my love? I don´t think so."

"No, you stick around; remind him of what a great guy you are. We´ve been apart so long he´s forgotten that he wants you.’

“You´re assuming he wanted me in the first place.’ That was the sticker as far as Lance was concerned, because as much as he wanted Chris, he´d never been totally sure he was wanted in return. Sure, there´d been hints, casual kisses and fumbles in the dark, but never anything more.

“Yeah, right. Just go.’ 

His hand twitched to salute at the phone. Lance stuck it down the side of the couch cushion instead. It didn´t matter he was states away, Joey would still have seen; he was clever like that. “I´ll go tomorrow.’

“Good.’ Joey sounded satisfied, and Lance listened to a distant creak of a chair, footsteps against a wooden floor. “I need to go make dinner. Call me, okay?’

“I will. Promise.’ Cutting the call, Lance flopped back onto the couch; legs hanging over the side as he stared at the ceiling, knowing tomorrow would come all too soon.

~*~*~*~

It was official, Lance had the worst timing ever. 

Parking his car way down Chris´ drive, he looked at the house, wincing at the pounding music bleeding through the closed windows and doors. Knowing that what was loud out here would be worse inside, Lance considered leaving. The thought of countless future calls from Joey encouraged him out of his car, and past the long line of haphazardly parked vehicles.

As Lance approached the house, he could just make out a dark shape in the shadows of the porch. He stared, mind flashing over rabid wolves, savage dogs, or even worse, teenage fans. Not that any of those were likely, but still, it was always wise to be prepared. Gripping his cell, he stepped into the pool of light and crept forward and up the stairs, letting out a rush of air when he realised it wasn´t a rabid dog at all.

Lance´s heart skipped as he stepped closer to the shape, now revealed to be a deathly still body sprawled across the floor. The last thing they needed was someone breathing their last at Chris´ front door. What with Justin´s older woman fetish, JC´s much publicised thoughts on sex, and Lance´s own _incident_ at Sundance, it was a good thing the teenie mags had other acts to follow. Death would be the icing on the kinky, drug and alcohol filled, dick obsessed cake.

Toeing at the body with his shoe, Lance breathed again when it groaned, turning on its side. A bottle rolling free from the man´s lax hand, spinning crazily until it hit against the side of Lance´s shoe.

Reassured, Lance kicked at the bottle so it spun off into a bed of flowers, and opened the door, taking a step back from the noise that burst free.

Inside, Chris´ house had been turned into a makeshift club. People dancing on the polished marble floor, lost in the pounding music that filled the air, people drinking and laughing and making out. The bass was heavy, and it slithered through Lance´s bones, thumped across his skin, and he shivered as he slid through the crowd.

Searching the rooms, Lance ignored the outstretched hands, the blatant invitations to come and play. He was here for a reason. He held tight to his resolve until, eventually, he found Chris sitting on a kitchen bench, beer bottle in hand, his audience hanging onto his every word.

“Lance!’ Catching sight of Lance, Chris waved, his football jersey creeping tantalisingly up his belly. “Come over here; help me with my stories of debauchery.’

“I don´t think you need any help.’ Lance tried to protest, but hands grabbed him. Until somehow, he found himself on the bench, thigh pressed against Chris´, the coffee machine digging in his back.

Chris smiled, leaned sideways and whispered loudly against Lance´s ear. “Don´t let me down, Bass. They think I´m cool.’

Lance looked around, at the crowd surrounding them, at Chris´ flushed face and glittering eyes. “Who am I to destroy that notion?’ He matched Chris´ whisper, then grinned and took the bottle from Chris´ hand to take a long drink before looking at the expectant crowd. “Okay, so back in Europe, Chris and I….’

~*~*~*~

“You sound rough, did you have an _interesting_ night?’

The implication was obvious in Joey´s tone. Lance laid his head against his kitchen table, trying to ignore the pounding in his skull and the urge to crawl back to bed and die. 

“It wasn´t like that. I drank too much, is all.’ He winced at the croak of his voice, regretting every one of the cocktails he´d downed without a second thought. It was all Chris´ fault. If it wasn´t for him Lance wouldn´t have had to go over there, and if he hadn´t gone there he wouldn´t have ended up partying all night; again.

“Dutch courage?’

Scratch that. It was all Joey´s fault. Lance had been fine with how things were. It was familiar. It was comfortable, and it wasn´t as if he bothered anyone about how he felt. Just JC those few times, and Justin that other time, and maybe Joey whenever Lance got drunk. Which wasn´t _that_ often, despite what anyone said. But no, Joey had to get involved with his worries about Lance wasting away his life with a succession of losers.  Lance would have protested more if it hadn´t been oh so sadly true. His love life could be graded in only one way. A big fat fail.

“I should have figured alcohol into the plan.’

“No, no you shouldn´t.’ Lance pulled all his dignity around him and cut Joey off. “I can do this, Joey.’  He could. He would. Lance was no quitter. Chris would be his. Soon. Once the world stopped churning under his feet. “I´ll call you later.’ Hanging up, Lance thankfully closed his eyes. Things would have to wait until he felt at least half alive.

~*~*~*~

Asking Chris to dinner had been surprisingly easy. One quick call, some casual words about catching up and Chris had agreed to meet, today. Which okay, didn´t give Lance much time to get ready, but really, he didn´t need _that_ much time. It was just Chris, after all.

Smoothing down the front of his new shirt, carefully touching his precisely styled hair Lance stepped into the restaurant, allowing the hostess to guide him to a booth. Sliding to the back, he waved away the offer of drinks and prepared to wait, knowing Chris would be late. That was inevitable.

Fingers tapping against the table top, Lance thought of what to say, sorting through his usual lines. _Wanna do it?_ combined with the eyebrow thing probably wouldn´t cut it this time. After years of exposure, all his friends were immune to a cockily arched brow.

“Lance!’ Chris´ voice cut through the air, and Lance started, the daydream of Chris on his knees replaced by the all too real sight of Chris poking at him with a fork, JC happy and smiling at his side.

“I asked JC to come along, I knew you wouldn´t mind.’ Chris waved JC into the booth, and Lance couldn´t stop smiling a greeting. JC was just too colourful, too content with the world. It was impossible to be angry with him, even if his lanky body was an effective barrier to Lance´s ability to actually get anywhere near Chris.

“Lance. Hi.’ JC pounced for a crushing hug, holding on until Lance waved his arms in a vain attempt for air. “Sorry.’ JC didn´t look sorry at all, grinning even wider as he leaned back in place, arms and legs spilling outwards and taking up far more room than he should technically need.

“How´s things?’ JC trailed his hand across Lance´s cheek, his arm resting easily along the back of the booth. “Chris tells me you were at his last week.’ 

The words were casual, but Lance knew JC, could easily see the question in the tilt of his head, the way his fingers lingered against Lance´s arm.

“Me and a thousand other people.’ Frustration coloured his tone, and Lance looked over at Chris, glad his attention was well away from the unspoken conversation going on by his side.

“You should say something.’ 

JC´s voice was almost a whisper, and Lance shrugged slightly. “I know.’ He signaled for the waitress, needing the distraction as JC sighed.

“Water please.’ Chris ordered, eyebrow raised at Lance´s look. “I told you I was on a health kick.’

Lance remembered the flush of alcohol across Chris´ cheeks, pizza slice in hand and lips shining with grease.’ It didn´t look like it last week.’

“Yeah, well. Everyone needs a night off.’ Winking at the waitress, Chris took hold of a bread stick, snapping it neatly in half. “Or even a few nights off.’

Catching the implied insult, Lance frowned, pleasing Chris who grinned and poked the broken end of the bread stick against Lance´s arm.

Grabbing for a stick of his own, about to engage in poking revenge, Lance let the bread stick drop when the waitress stepped across from him, pen poised pointedly over her pad of paper. 

“Are you ready to order, sir?’

Mentally throwing old Russian curses at Chris, Lance _really_ wanted a double scotch on the rocks, no make that a triple, but he was an adult. He could survive these significant looks and non words without using alcohol to dull the edge. “I´ll have a diet coke, what about you, JC?’ 

“I´ll have one of those cocktails. You know, those ones.’ Lance suspected that the waitress didn´t know at all, but that didn´t seem to deter JC who scrambled out of his seat, and over Lance´s lap in a flurry of sharp elbows and knees. “I´m going to go watch the cocktail waiter, give you time to talk.’

JC winked, slow and obvious, and all Lance wanted to do was sink into his seat. This wasn´t how this was supposed to go at all.

“He´s too much.’ Chris scooted across to Lance, shaking his head as JC took a seat at the bar. “I had to come meet you. He´s been talking about his album all day, and man, if you thought the last one was sex based you´ve seen nothing yet. All he´s talked about is how he did this, and wanted to do that, and it´s JC you know? I had to get out before I jumped him.’

“So you used me as cover.’ It figured, slumping in his seat a little, Lance watched JC charm the barman with a beaming smile.

“Not completely.’ Chris looked at Lance. “I wanted to see you too, but he had me so frustrated.’

Lance said nothing, knowing all too well how Chris feels.

~*~*~*~

“Bass. It´s been a week. Get over there now, and make him notice you; I can´t take your mournful silences.’

Lance listlessly stirred the onions, watching them sizzle in the pan. “He´s got a thing for JC.’ 

“He has not, and you know it.’ Something banged in Lance´s ear, and he pulled away from his cell. “….smashing the garlic, sorry.’

“You could have warned me.’ Taking his own clove of garlic, Lance hit it forcefully with the back of a spoon. “Do I add the whole clove? And I don´t know anything.’

“It depends, is there going to be kissage soon?’

“Kissage? You´ve been reading the teen mags again haven´t you?’ Scooping up the crushed garlic, Lance dropped it into the pan, a faint sizzle echoing in his ear.

“I have to, man. It´s part of the job.’ Joey sounded unconcerned, verbally shrugging over the miles. “You´re being a pussy about this, and don´t give me any crap about JC. That´s an excuse and we both know it.’

“I know….’ Lance trailed off, wooden spoon still in the pan. “This is ridiculous. He has to be alone sometime.’ Determined, Lance turned off the burner, pushing the pan to the side. “You´ll have to finish dinner without me. I´m going over to Chris´.’

Flicking shut his cell, the last thing Lance heard was Joey´s emphatic _It's about time!'_

~*~*~*~

Lance strode up the - thankfully empty - drive. Resolve solid, he knocked on the door, ignoring the itch of anticipation crawling up his spine.

“Lance?’

Chris opened the door, puzzled when Lance pushed past to look inside. 

“You´re alone?’

“I was. Now you´re here.’ Chris leant back against the door frame, arms crossed and waiting.

“Good, because I have something to say." Lance stepped forward, standing his ground as Chris looked him up and down. "I like you, like really like you."

“Ten years and that´s the best you can do?’ Chris didn't look surprised at all. “Lame, Bass. Lame. You´re lucky I´m easy.’

“Yeah?’ Focused only on the glint of Chris´ eyes, the slope of his smile, Lance held Chris´ look. “Want to prove that?’ 

 Chris leaned in, words hot over Lance´s mouth. "I thought you´d never ask."


End file.
